Cherophobia
by JoMarchWrites
Summary: The people in Olivia Benson's life think she's fearless. They believe she is filled with courage and resilience. Tonight, however, she admits to herself, and the only other person that matters, that she is absolutely terrified of one thing. She suffers from Cherophobia, the fear of being happy, and she's afraid that her partner is the only cure. (One chapter, EO, M for language)


**_Cherophobia: the intense and crippling fear of being happy_**

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

"What are you doing here?"

She watched his perfect lips form the question, she heard his soulful voice speak the words, yet she simply stared at him, unable to formulate an answer.

"Liv, it's almost midnight," he complained, a hand traveling idly down the cobblestone of his face. "Either get in here, or go home."

She bit unconsciously at her lip, contemplating, weighing her options. "Aw, hell," she huffed, pushing her way past him and into his apartment. She knew he was watching her, she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head, and with her lip still being gnashed between her teeth, she plopped on his couch and stared at a water-damage pattern in his ceiling.

"Are you..." he paused, taking a good look at her. "You don't look so good. What's the matter?"

Without looking at him, she shook her head and wavered a bit. "He asked me..." she took a breath, exhaling hard, and ran both hands through her wavy hair. "He asked me what I wanted to name my first child," she scoffed, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question.

He blinked, emotionless, and sat next to her. "I thought this was just a second date."

"We were just talking..." she cleared her throat. "He knows I want kids, and he asked if I ever thought about what I would name them, and I said...well, I said, yeah, because, fuck, I've thought about it. I've been thinking about it for years."

"I know," he mumbled. He was slightly nervous now, his skin growing pallid, and any intentions he had of going back to bed had taken a swan dive out the window. "Go on."

"That's the thing..." she finally looked at him, her lips twisted to the left side in a haphazard blend of anxiousness, defeat, and maybe, if she was being honest, hope. "I told him the truth, and, well, he kind of...left." She closed her eyes. "That's not true. I left. I always leave. Though, I wouldn't have blamed him for leaving, if, ya know, he had left."

"How much did you have to drink?" he asked, chuckling at her nervous chatter and rather fast talking.

"I had a shot of whiskey before he got there," she told him flatly. "Then I had water. I'm totally sober which is why I'm so...holy shit, my hands are shaking."

He raised both brows before reaching for her trembling hands, holding them in his, stilling them. "Better?"

"Worse," she croaked out, staring down at her ensconced fingers. "El, I...I told him the truth." She looked up at him. "I said...Elliot."

"What?" he asked, confused. Did he miss the question? He was too busy staring into her eyes. There was an unfamiliar emotion behind them tonight.

"I told him," she said, taking a deliberate breath, "That I wanted to name my first child Elliot." She laughed at herself, bitterly and softly. "He asked, ya know, what if it was a girl, and I said...I said...'I guess I'd name her Ellie, or Eleanor' and he made this face that...he looked ill." She felt her heart thud as she readied herself to admit the most tragic moment of her evening. "He asked why...and..." she stopped.

He waited.

And waited.

"Liv?" he finally prodded, squeezing her hands.

"It's late," she said, pulling her hands out of his grasp. "I shouldn't have bothered you. Go back to sleep." She rose off the couch and moved toward the door, but he grabbed her arm. She turned to look at him. "What?"

"You can't just..." he began, bewildered. "You can't tell me you want to name your unborn children after me and then expect me to watch you walk away! Talk to me!" He tugged on her arm, and she caved.

Closing her eyes and almost pouting, she dropped back into her vacated spot on the sofa. "About what?"

"He asked why, and..." he rolled his hand in an attempt to get her to finish the thought, his blue eyes beaming at her in curious suspense.

"Maybe I should have gotten drunk," she muttered, realizing she'd put her foot in her mouth. She took a deep, slow breath, then turned her whole body to face him. "I told him...I wanted to name my first kid...after the..." Again, she stopped herself. "Fuck," she hissed, then, crossing her tanned legs, unknowingly making the beaded fabric of her dress ride up a bit, exposing new skin.

He looked, he drooled slightly, and he forced himself to bring his eyes up to meet hers. "What?"

"This is the fourth guy that's only managed to get to a second date," she said. "In a year. A year! I don't know what the fuck I...I'm stupid, is what that is. I say the wrong thing, I'm too fucking honest, I think...no, I know...that part of me is terrified."

"Of babies?" he questioned. He was trying to follow the conversation, but the fact that he could see curves of places he'd dreamed of licking and sucking pulled his focus. "Liv, slow down, and just...terrified of what?"

She closed her eyes, turned away from him, and shifted in her seat. Very softly, a breath above a whisper, she said, "Being happy." She let her head fall back against the couch, disgusted with herself. "For so long, there's been this thought in the back of my mind that...I could only ever be happy with...one person. And...for just as long, I have been...fucking...sabotaging my own relationships because I'm afraid of proving myself wrong. Or...settling for someone who makes me miserable out of sheer desperation, knowing I'll never have a shot at happiness with...him."

"Who?" he asked, in a hushed tone, his hand creeping toward the smooth skin of her thigh. He gulped and shook off a shiver when his fingers made contact with her leg.

The touch garnered her attention; her head shot up, her eyes gazed down, and she was staring coldly at his hand resting on her flesh. Cautiously, she moved her focus, her eyes gliding along the length of his arm, to his chest, finally meeting his hesitant and concerned glare. "You," she said with a shrug. "When he asked why...I told him my first child should be named after the father, and as soon as the words flew out of my mouth, I broke out into the most hysterical fit of laughter. I mean, my ribs hurt, I was laughing so hard."

"Why is that funny?" His eyebrows were knitted together and he was actually wondering if he should be offended.

"Are you..." she moved, turning sharply toward him, the sudden shift in position shoving his hand further up on her thigh. "Did you even hear what I just said? You...the father of my kid? That's insane enough, but I said this, to a man I was on a date with, while he was holding my fucking hand!" She snorted at the absurdity of the situation. "I was so...embarrassed. And I knew he was feeling, probably, two inches tall, because I shot down any chance of him getting lucky. I got up and I left, and I came here because..."

Silence.

"I don't know why I came here, actually," she scraped her teeth along her bottom lip again.

He smiled, starting to grow bold in the way his hand moved up and down, dipping low toward her inner thigh, smoothing over her skin. "I do," he said with a nod. He moved closer to her.

"Oh, no," she said, backing away. "I did not come here for you to...this whole thing was not me asking for you to give me that baby."

He laughed, a full, hearty guffaw, and he shook his head as he pulled her body closer to his. "No, no, no, Liv, not...I would never...well, I mean, eventually, but not tonight." He smirked. "Actually, it could be tonight, we know how fucking fertile I am, and this dress is already practically off of you."

She gave him a hard thwap in the chest, offering a stern "Hmph."

He took hold of her chin with his free hand, his other still drawing circles on her upper thigh. "You look gorgeous, by the way," he whispered. "But I think you're here because you're not afraid anymore." He bent his head a bit. "Are you ready?"

"For?" she questioned, her heart hammering against her chest. She knew what was happening, and she was sure she would do very little to stop it.

"Tell me," he whispered. He brushed his lips over hers, just barely, and he uttered, so softly, "Are you ready to be happy?"

Her answer was a light gasp and quiet whimper, her hands running up his chest to loop around his neck.

It was all the affirmation he needed. He pressed his lips to hers, gently, eagerly, a searing burn and freezing chill filling him all at once. His fingertips dug into the skin of her inner thigh, pulling her to him, wrapping her leg over his lap.

She convinced her body to move, straddling him as the kiss deepened, her heart echoing his in loud, thunderous pounding.

He pulled back, panting, searching her eyes for any sign of regret. Seeing none, he smiled and ran the pad of his thumb over her red, swollen lips. "I'm always gonna be here, ya know," he told her. "I was...I was waiting for you, too, Liv. I don't think...I don't think we have to be afraid anymore."

She let her forehead fall against his, her lips seeking out another deep kiss, and she knew that he'd killed the last shred of apprehension, finally allowing her to become the one thing she'd always convinced the world she was:

Fearless.

**_Reviews are welcome._**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


End file.
